


Respite

by Hansine



Series: Of Stars and Dragons [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, chrom is super defensive, i sort of sinned again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-29 22:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11450034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hansine/pseuds/Hansine
Summary: Respite. Noun. A delay or cessation for a time, especially of anything distressing or trying; an interval of relief.They were slowly rebuilding what they had lost from the war, slowly moving on from the soot, fire, and steel. The first step was to negotiate and prepare for a royal wedding and the next was to await the birth of their young Exalt’s heir. The road to recovery was long and winding, but sure in the hands of young Chrom and his wife.Chrobin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t stop won’t stop writing for this aaaaahhhh. Supposed to be writing for [Milestones](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11317626/chapters/25330497) or thinking about an AU-but-still-similar-world-to-Ylisse multi-chapter work but nooo, here I am writing for this collection. Not all bad I suppose, at least I’m writing. Hopefully my fanfiction writing mojo will stay strong for a while yet, maybe flitting even to other fandoms.
> 
> This is mostly safe for a T rating but because of harsh language, I figured M would be more appropriate. That and it gets pretty suggestive in the end. Better safe than sorry!
> 
> Please read [Dolor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11400441) if you haven't yet! This can stand alone but the story is much better appreciated if you read that first.

They were all _insufferable_. First they grumbled about how long he was holed up in his room, then they were at him with talks of marriage, now that he was finally up to discussing just that, they were livid at his choice. These selfish dastards were not what he and the Shepherds fought for, not what Emmeryn sacrificed herself for, but it was save the entire country or save no one at all.

 

Not all nobility was bad, there were some who earnestly wanted their lands to prosper because that meant their people would prosper as well. It was the few _insufferable_ ones who made him gnash his teeth. Unfortunately, many of them were on the council as per his father’s wishes. Emmeryn was too young to change them. He was old enough but he was not king yet. His first order of business as Exalt was to find replacements, mentally reminding himself to have Frederick draw up a list of replacements, _good_ replacements. Chrom wasn’t against opposition or fiery debate, but he was against those who thought only of themselves.

 

“My lord!”

 

Chrom’s shoulders jerked, snapping him out of his daydream. The men around him had mixed expressions, some wondering if Chrom was exhausted, others annoyed that their new king was but a babe compared to them, half-hoping and half-scheming he’d appoint one of them as his royal advisor. Now was the time to endear themselves to him, to prove themselves loyal and useful, to curry his favor, but that was proving difficult to do considering the subject at hand: his marriage to one Stella of… House Unknown.

 

“My lord do consider some of these other candidates.” Chrom eyed him warily, the Lord Kilburn. He pushed a list forward. Some of them were names of their own daughters, of course, others were names of royal daughters from other lands, likely in an attempt to forge alliances. Kilburn was a cunning man, useful to some degree, a dangerous ally, one that needed to be kept at arm’s length. At the flip of a coin he could betray his allies to ensure his survival.

 

“Why bother? I’m not going to marry any of them,” Chrom, teeth gritting together. “If I didn’t need your approval, I would have done so already. I don’t see what your problem is. Need I remind you that Father… married a commoner.” Chrom winced, hating to use his Father for his defense. The nobles against him mumbled lowly, annoyed that Chrom had the good sense to remember his own mother’s origins. “I refuse to marry someone out of obligation. Father married Mother because he loved her, as I will marry Stella because I love her.”

 

“Times were different then. Your late father didn’t have to amass loyalties to ensure the survival of Ylisse.” The Lord Kilburn again. “And as…” Kilburn paused, trying to find a word that described his mother’s station accurately but without insult. “Plain as your dear mother’s origins might be, they were there to speak of.” He must have hit the right balance, smiling slightly, noting that he did not get an immediate tongue-lashing from their young king.

 

“Stella might not have lands or riches to her name but she has something more than any of these women will ever have, a mind so gifted it helped us survive the war.” Chrom’s eyes narrowed, rubbing his temples with his fingers, a dull throb starting to get more and more insistent. “Without her, we’d still be fighting.” The mood shifted. Some of those on the fence seemed to be leaning his way, those already on his side beaming at his progress, easily able to bring up points to counter Kilburn. “Without her, Lissa and I may very well be dead.”

 

“Exalt Emmeryn is dead.” Kilburn’s tone was laced with a hint of malice, forgetting for a moment his ambitions to become royal advisor, besotted in the idea of marrying off his own daughter to Chrom. “If… the Lady Stella were so invaluable as you say she is, then your dear Exalted sister would still be alive. Fat lot of good love did for us here.” Chrom lunged forward, picking up Kilburn by the collars and fisting them strongly, slowly cutting his air supply. The noble coughed, struggling vainly against the sword-forged and battle-tested strength of his king. Just as Chrom was about to throw Kilburn against the wall, the young exalt felt strong hands on top of his, fingers prying his grip loose until Kilburn was unceremoniously dropped back down to his chair.

 

“Do forgive me for interrupting, my lords, but you protest this union with Lady Stella without knowing anything at all about her.” Frederick put a hand on Chrom’s shoulders, glancing at him slightly as he quickly ushered his young lord to sit. “I was with milord and milady Lissa when we found Lady Stella on that field and like you, I was wary of her lack in origins, but I believe milord to be a good judge of character. Time after time she has fought by our sides, risked her life for a people she didn’t even grow up with, and put as much blame on herself for Lady Emmeryn’s death as milord did.”

 

“Then she can be the general of our armies, not the wife of our king,” shot back Kilburn, rubbing his throat as he tried to regain composure. _Shit; I should not have said that. Struck a sharp cord there with the boy._ “Sir Frederick’s words count for much. I know how difficult it is for you to trust anyone else, having been charged with the safety of the royal siblings since childhood. Still, even with your testimony, how are we so sure that the Lady Stella will not betray us?” The nobles on the fence seemed to shift back to Lord Kilburn’s side.

 

“Need I remind you that that dastard Hierarch betrayed Emmeryn?” spat Chrom, eyes darkening. He could almost feel the Brand burning, its heat searing against his skin. “And what is to say none of you will betray us in the same way?” His tone was decidedly accusatory, his gaze flickering from one noble to another, some shrinking into their seats, others silently affirming their loyalty, still others attempting to hold their eyes strong as he glanced at them. Kilburn received the brunt of the glare, the self-serving noble just barely managing to still his body lest shivers betray his fear.

 

“Now now my boy, I’m sure the Lord Kilburn is only looking out for the good of Ylisse.” A fatherly voice broke Chrom from his anger, the blue haired lord looking over to see the kindly, fatherly smile of Lord Martin. “But do allay our fears. I have heard tales of Lady Stella’s bravery and devotion to you but perhaps not all of us present have.” Martin shot a withering look at Kilburn, the latter shuddering in his seat. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re choosing to marry for love, my Lord Chrom.”

 

Chrom sighed, somewhat placated by Martin’s explanations, coloring slightly at the deferential tone. Martin had tried to counsel his warmongering father but to no avail. Still, he did his best to spare as many civilians from the war, making the long trip to Ylisstol to his home and back often. The few moments Martin had free were spent watching Emmeryn, Chrom, and Lissa grow up, playing with them. Now, Martin’s bones were tired and heavy, the years of fighting weighing down on him but so very spry and loyal to the good of the many.

 

“Milord, perhaps you should tell them,” Frederick said lowly, preferring to keep such private information to Chrom and Stella but not seeing any other way out. Kilburn’s sharp ears picked up on the knight’s words, Chrom hunching over the table with his fingers interlaced, elbows resting against the wood. Sucking in air for courage, Chrom raised his head and levelled his gaze. It was not only his news to announce but it was the only way to finally placate all their fears, that Stella was never going to betray Ylisse, never going to betray him. When she came to him that night, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was her own woman but nevertheless chose to burn for him.

 

“She’s pregnant.” In the silence that followed, jaws dropped.

 

“She’s _what_?” Kilburn spat out, standing up and white with fury.

 

“She’s pregnant.” Chrom turned to look at Kilburn with raised brows, daring him to say anything more.

 

“That… that… _insufferable_ … that _fucking woman_ is pregnant?” Chrom nearly jumped and smashed his fist into Kilburn’s face, uncaring for decorum at this point, able to justify his outbreak because of the noble’s insult of Stella. Before he could, Frederick’s well-timed instincts led his hands to Chrom’s shoulder, Lord Martin speaking on the slighted royal’s behalf.

 

“Kilburn, _you’re_ the insufferable one. I’ve seen you plot and scheme to try and take a more prominent role here at court.” Martin was calm now, calm even when faced with the wild, maddening eyes of Kilburn. “It is not your place to tell our lord what to do, it is not any of our places. We are merely here to advise, to counsel, to oppose if we feel we are being led headfirst into destruction, but that is not where we are going now. As Sir Frederick has said, we know Lord Chrom to be a good judge of character, surrounding himself with gallant and loyal men and women, some of whom have sacrificed their lives for us to attain the peace we enjoy now. If it would please the council, I myself will speak with the Lady Stella, ascertain her motivations and report back.” Martin looked at Chrom like a proud father would, his kindly eyes reflecting a smile. “And do indulge an old man my boy, I’m sure I would love her as… your father might have if they met.” The other nobles squawked their approval, Kilburn biting his bottom lip and drawing blood.

 

“Very well Lord Martin,” Chrom relented. “Let me lead you to our quarters and you may talk. The rest of you will stay here and wait. I will send for refreshments as they talk.” His eyes glanced on the rest of the council who nodded, agreeing to this compromise, his gaze steeling when he faced Kilburn. “And you, Kilburn. For your words against Stella, even if she is not yet my _wife_ but she is a war hero, risking her life to unknowingly save your pathetic one, harsh taxes will be levied upon _your personal finances_ and your titles stripped from you and your family.”

 

“You… you can’t do that!” Kilburn screeched, about to lunge at Chrom but easily restrained by Frederick. “You insolent ingrate!”

 

“No, you are the insolent man and the ingrate Kilburn. We fought in that war to save Ylisse, to bring peace and restore happiness to our people. We did not risk our lives for nobles like you to carry on in their self-serving ways.” Chrom stood and addressed the council. “Take heed of our noblesse oblige, my friends, and all of you just that until the day I find out you serve your interests before those of your people, of my people.” The young king looked at Frederick now, still holding Kilburn back. “Frederick, if you would be so kind as to escort Kilburn out and send word to his family they are no longer the ruling nobles.”

 

“As you wish, milord.” Frederick bowed deeply, unperturbed even with Kilburn’s thrashing.

 

“Now, let me bring you to my _fiancée_ Lord Martin. After this is done, perhaps you and the rest of the council can draw up a list for Kilburn’s replacement?”

 

**—x—**

 

“Chrom!” Stella jumped from her chair, dropping the book on the table and rushing forward to jump in his arms, suddenly stopping when she realized they weren’t alone. “Good afternoon, Lord Martin.” Stella bit her inner cheek, uncharacteristically meek as she managed a proper curtsy despite not wearing a dress. They had never personally met, but far be it from her to be unfamiliar with the men who were part of Chrom’s council, especially those who had considerable influence and the respect of almost all its members.

 

“You honor me, my lady, for even knowing the name of an old man like me.” Martin took her hand and pressed it to his lips lightly, a light blush settling itself on Stella’s cheeks. As he straightened himself, he noticed piles of books and maps on the table, messy but somehow organized. “Were we disturbing you from your work? If so, I can always come back at another time.”

 

“Oh no not at all! I was just reading up on the Ylissean taxation system, trying to figure out how to lessen the burden on the people but without sacrificing… our war chest, should the need arise.” Stella’s voice grew small, her eyes downcast. They had just come from a war and here she was, trying to figure out a way to fund another one. “Not that I think we should start a war or anything, but there have been rumors, whispers that Plegia is just biding its time! I think it best we are prepared, no matter how unlikely the situation…”

 

“My girl, nothing wrong with preparing for a war. I pray that it will never come to pass but I’d rather our coffers filled so that we may defend our lands as opposed to being vulnerable. I’m glad to hear you’re trying to lessen the burden of the people but without leaving the country defenseless.” The corner of the noble’s eyes crinkled with laughter and approval. “I see now why Chrom thinks so highly of you.” He put a gentle hand on Chrom’s shoulder, the young lord blushing and averting his gaze.

 

“Lord Martin wants to talk to you. The council is concerned about your lack of… origins, even after I kept insisting that it does not matter to me,” Chrom explained, tired but resigned. Martin would judge her fairly, but he found it irksome that Stella needed to be judged at all. Stella nodded. She was aware her history, or lack thereof, was going to be problematic, the main reason why she repressed her feelings for so long. She dabbled, toed the line, but she never crossed it. But after Chrom had been in that well of despair, she would be damned to have done nothing at all, her feelings spurred on and emboldened by Sumia’s declarations.

 

“Even I would be concerned about the lack of history of any marriage candidate to the royal family,” she replied diplomatically. She looked at Chrom with only kindness and love in her eyes. “Talk to me however long you wish, Lord Martin, so that I may prove to you that I am no danger to Chrom. I would rather die than do anything to hurt him, by my own blade if that were necessary.” Her face was resolute, Chrom’s heart tightening at her words, touched by her love and loyalty but tormented at the thought of her dying before she hurt him.

 

“Now now, no need for that,” Martin laughed, offering a hand as he started to lead her back to her messy table. “If this discussion goes quickly, might you humor this old man and tell him about your ideas about the taxation system? If feasible, might we test it in my own lands?” Stella followed, turning her head back to smile at Chrom who managed a small wave. “Now then, shall we start at the beginning? Feel free to share whatever you feel is relevant and do forgive me if this will bring up any bad memories.”

 

When they had finally settled into their seats, Chrom turned around and left the room, closing the door on the way out. He so badly wanted to stay but he knew that he would be a constant interruption, defending Stella but that would not help her, help _them_ in any way. He slumped down near the door, the heels of his boots digging into the bricks, the ball of his hand pressing against his eyelids. It was unbecoming of a king, to sit down on the floor and mope, but he didn’t care. He wanted to wait right there.

 

**—x—**

 

“I didn’t want to believe Lord Martin when he said you cried after he met with the council,” Stella teased, tracing idle patterns lazily on Chrom’s chest. He huffed, settling her even more into the crook of his neck. “Until Frederick told me as well.” Chrom colored, mumbling something about knights who don’t seem to care much for the dignity of their lords. “Have I ever told you I loved you because you wear your heart on your sleeve?” She leaned up and kissed him on his cheek, warmth lingering when she pulled away.

 

“The matter with Kilburn was… disconcerting. One or two of them were loyal to him, to Ylisse and the Exalted Blood of course, but they often deferred to him,” Chrom sighed, still upset at what he had to do, but he knew he had to prove he wasn’t going to be a pushover. Stella sighed, sitting up but scooting closer, turning her body slightly as she stroked his hair, brushing away locks that fell towards his eyes. “And he insulted you and the baby.” She smiled, leaning down as she peppered his forehead with butterfly kisses, moving down slowly until she kissed his lips tenderly.

 

“My hero,” Stella whispered, pulling away but only just, her hair falling over them like a veil. For once she was glad she kept her hair long, a curtain to close themselves off even though they were in their private quarters. It made their interactions even more intimate, closed off even to the walls that surrounded them. “I thank you, my dear lord, for your quick and decisive action to protect our honor.” Her hand darted lower, picking his up and resting it on her stomach. The swell was hardly noticeable, but there to see if anyone truly looked.

 

“I’m still sorry that Lord Martin had to talk to you to convince the rest of the council, even though I gather the conversation with him went well.” Chrom sighed, turning towards Stella, fingers spreading wide as he let it rest between her stomach and her hand.

 

“Not at all, I understand. It’s politics. I know who you are and who I am, or at least I think I do. If I can survive a sword to my neck, I can survive nobles breathing down my neck.” Stella smiled warmly. By next year, there would be three of them on this bed, a beautiful baby between them. She hoped it was a girl, a shy, beautiful but headstrong daughter who had her father’s heart and eyes. “Besides, it turned out well didn’t it? They said we could marry with their blessing.”

 

“Well and good but I still wish I didn’t have to ask them,” he mumbled, pushing himself up using the hand that wasn’t on her stomach. Chrom pulled her close, savoring the smell of her shampoo and soap, of fresh lemons and flowers. If he could smell only one thing the rest of his life, he wouldn’t mind this one.

 

“Such is the fate of any king, or queen. To find ways to strengthen your stronghold, with or without a war looming at your doorstep.” Stella closed her eyes, settling into his embrace, the warmth from his chest spreading along her back. “But at least it’s over, hm? Consider us lucky that we were able to wrangle this hard-fought victory. Most men and women in your station don’t have much of a choice in matters such as these, or so I’ve read anyway.”

 

“That’s true. Most men and women also don’t meet someone like you in the middle of a field, someone who would change not only their lives but the people around them as well, friends and subjects alike.” Chrom took another deep breath before shifting around, not once losing his grip on her, only slacking slightly as he reached for something on his side table. Turning to face her, he shyly, uncharacteristically, offered her a ring. “Stella, you are the wind at my back, and the sword at my side. Together, my love, we shall build a peaceful world, just you and me.” Stella’s cheeks and ears warmed at the declaration, heart heavy with affection as a smile tugged on her lips as she pulled away, turning to face him as she laughed.

 

“Where did you learn a line like that?” Tears formed, her laugh melodious but unrelenting. Chrom burned, opening and closing his mouth like a fish at her reaction.

 

“That’s your reaction!?” Chrom burned even redder. Stella laughed again, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

 

“Sorry, it’s just the cheesiest thing I’ve heard,” she murmured, her eyes glassy as she pulled away, lips tilted up in a smile. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“This was crafted to commemorate my birth, and later given to me by my father. Since my earliest days I have planned to bestow it to the woman I would marry. It is yours now. A symbol of our everlasting love and affection.” Chrom’s face finally returned to its usual color, picking up her left hand as he slid the ring in place. The metal was supposed to feel cold but it was warm against her skin. “It fits you perfectly,” he murmured softly, thumbing the engraving of his family crest. Stella burst into laughter again, tears, happy tears, falling freely. Chrom furrowed his brow, trying to ignore her outburst this time.

 

“So like you to say that, my love,” she whispered, leaning close, after finally settling down. Stella cupped his cheek with her left hand, Chrom flinching slightly at the sudden press of metal. Leaning forward, Stella gave his lips a quick peck, folding herself over him as she circled her arms around his broad shoulders. “One of the many reasons I fell in love with you, my lord. You are my home now.”

 

“You’re cheesy too.” Chrom laughed as he returned her embrace, yelping slightly when Stella pinched him. “Hey!”

 

“Only I get to be the cheesy one here.”

 

“But—”

 

“Happy wife, happy life!” She smiled, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder, the only evidence of her embarrassment were her reddened ears.

 

Chrom chuffed but pulled her closer just the same.

 

**—x—**

 

Stella harangued almost everyone she had to deal with, happy that the council would allow Chrom to marry her but furious that she was only given just over a week to prepare. Frederick said something about her being pregnant being the reason for the rush. Although everyone who mattered knew Chrom was the father, it would do no one any good to think that Stella could be carrying someone else’s heir. The tactician bit back her curses, understanding the situation but wondering why they couldn’t have gotten more time. It wasn’t so much that she wanted a big and plush affair, satisfied if it had just been the Shepherds in attendance, or really even just the bare minimum to stand as witness. It was just all the protocol, the pomp and circumstance attached to the marriage of an Exalt that was driving her crazy.

 

“Small ceremony, just the Shepherds and the nobles who _absolutely_ have to attend and you can deal with… whatever details you must with the parade and the reception. By the Gods why do we even have to have a parade? We’re not some dolls to be displayed.” Stella’s brow furrowed, slumping over the table as she drummed her fingers against the wood. Her eyes were stormy. “Can’t we compromise on at least that? We don’t need to give a bunch of lords and ladies a chance to preen in public, nor do we need to spend more than we have to. Ylisse is still recovering from the war.”

 

“A fine compromise, milady.” Frederick crossed the large number, writing a much more manageable seventy in neat, block numbers. “I admire your practicality on this matter and would like to cut back as well but unfortunately, we can’t ignore the fact that this is a big and important affair. Plus, I’ve heard people chatter excitedly about your upcoming wedding, once the announcement was made. This will give them a good excuse to rejoice, even if we are still recovering.”

 

“Just Stella is fine, Frederick. Nothing’s changed between us, even if I am marrying Chrom.” Frederick raised an eyebrow in protest. “...Fine. Milady in public but Stella in private. You and your protocols.” The knight smiled warmly, reaching over and covering her hand with his, squeezing it like an affectionate and beloved relative would. As soon as Stella opened her mouth to speak, the door bust wide open, two excited blonde nobles rushed forward, their eyes gleeful as they quivered with excitement.

 

“Whoa there. What’s got your feathers all ruffled?” Stella smiled, grateful for what seemed to be a respite with dealing with which nobles were supposed to be invited.

 

“Have you been to the seamstress yet?” Lissa jumped up and down excitedly. Stella hazarded a guess that Chrom’s younger sister was the type to fantasize about her own wedding.

 

“No, but I’m supposed to in about an hour. She said she had some choices for me.”

 

“Well, how utterly infuriating that they didn’t give you enough time for a couture dress!” Maribelle huffed, annoyed at the lack of sensitivity that _men_ had.

 

“Not much of a choice since I’m—” Stella bit her tongue. No one was supposed to know yet. Lissa and Maribelle barely caught her slip, discussing something between them, Frederick visibly relaxing that she managed to catch herself. “Well, what brings you two excited bundles here?”

 

“You know the old adage of something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” Lissa’s eyes shone, her heart beating wildly. She was such a romantic and an optimist, a bright light against the dour battlefield.

 

“Yes…? I guess? I don’t know. Don’t remember much.” Lissa visibly shook at the reminder.

 

“Oh Stella I’m so sorry!”

 

“No worries. I figure what I don’t remember shouldn’t be too important anyway.” Her future sister-in-law’s shoulders picked up as she started to chitter excitedly, Maribelle putting a calming hand on her friend’s shoulder as she continued.

 

“Anyway, as dear Lissa said, it’s an old adage we try to live by in time for our own weddings. We assumed that since you were going to be busy with… all the other details, we took it upon ourselves to fill out the list!” Maribelle’s shoulders jutted forward, her carefully styled curls bouncing softly.

 

“For your something old, tradition dictates that your veil will be the one Mother used,” Lissa explained shyly, pulling out an old wedding photo of her mother’s. The lace was soft and delicate, not overly flowery. “And before you protest about me using it, it’s always been passed down to either the wife of the Exalt, or the Exalt herself as would have been Emm’s case. It’s rightfully yours, now that you’re about to marry my brother!”

 

“C’mere,” Stella invited, standing up as she smothered Lissa in an embrace, peppering her cheeks with laughs and kisses as the young cleric struggled out of her grasp. Maribelle coughed.

 

“For your something new, we all pitched in for these.” Maribelle pulled out a velvet box from her pocket and opened it, jeweled hair pins glittering. The tactician glanced at her three companions, all nodding as she gratefully and almost reverently picked up the box from Maribelle’s hands. Being a Shepherd wasn’t the most well-paying job and the hair pins seemed so expensive. “We all insist, my dear Stella. You’ve sacrificed so much for us and for Ylisse, this is the least we can do to repay you.”

 

“Thank you…” Stella whispered, her eyes tearing away from the captivating sparkle, her heart fattening with all the affection from her friends.

 

“For your something borrowed, we scrounged around a pair of heels in your size!” Lissa chirped, wrapping her arms around Stella’s waist. “Although I suppose you’ll soon amass a collection, being Queen and all.” Stella groaned, muttering something about how they were leather torture devices and that men should have to suffer the same fate if women did.

 

“Now now.” Maribelle laughed but agreed wholeheartedly, much preferring to be in boots, or flats, heels on only for important events. “For your something blue, we instructed the seamstress to bring her very best blue silk, to cinch around your waist.”

 

“To highlight your slim figure!” Lissa squeezed her arms around Stella’s waist for emphasis, the tactician blushing.

 

“And your other… assets.” Maribelle wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, amused, her gaze landing on Stella’s chest. Frederick turned around, averting his gaze as he coughed, Lissa confused, laughing when she caught Stella blushing furiously.

 

“Milady Lissa, milady Maribelle, thank you for your contributions but milady Stella and I still have much to discuss before she leaves for the fitting and before lord Chrom arrives later in the day.” Frederick stood, shooing the two blondes out. They protested, wanting to discuss more about the wedding but Stella mouthed a sorry and a thank you, the redness in her cheeks finally starting to fade. Stella’s gratitude satisfied the two, saying they’d wait for her with the seamstress. With the door closed once more, Frederick turned around only for Stella to look away, fingers twiddling. “Milad—. Stella?”

 

“Frederick would you give me away to Chrom?” she blurted out, blush quickly coming back as she turned to face him. “Not that you’re old enough to be my father, Gods no! But I don’t have any family, not that I know of anyway, and I’d be terrified to walk all that way alone. I know that Chrom’s waiting at the end but I’ve seen the chapel. The aisle is far too long for me. I’m rambling aren’t I? Gods why am I crying?” Stella sniffed, trying to rub away the tears she didn’t realize were already falling.

 

Frederick stiffened slightly, mostly out of surprise, before he stepped closer, putting a hand on Stella’s shoulders to steady her breathing. She looked up, still sniffling but at least breathing evenly. “It would be my honor.” She hugged him gleefully, ignoring his protests at her decorum.

 

**—x—**

 

Stella paced around in her room, barefoot until she had to wear those god awful heels. Lissa said she’d be back with Maribelle to help get her ready, the latter insisting on doing her makeup. When they arrive, Stella is surprised to see Olivia with them. The dancer shyly that saying she’s there to help with her hair, having had many occasions to style her hair differently. “Oh thank god I thought you were going to be one of the wives who thought it a dereliction of their duty if they didn’t lecture me how I should act during the ceremony.”

 

“Ah, yes, those wives.” Maribelle huffed, pushing Stella gently to the vanity, the makeup already set up neatly on the table. “I was on the receiving end of such… unsolicited and unwarranted advice myself when I first attended a ball with my father.” Maribelle gently, directed Stella’s lids to close, taking a puff and powdering her face lightly. “They’re just… bored to put it lightly.”

 

“Bored?” Lissa shuffled about getting the dress, shoes, and veil ready, plopping down on a nearby chair, swinging her legs idly while she waited. Olivia quietly combed Stella’s hair, brushing through it and sectioning it, getting the white blond tresses ready for plaiting. “I think they’re just trying to find a way to position themselves in your favor. I’ve seen it with Emm.”

 

“Well, if they thought poking their nose into affairs that are none of their business is going to do the trick, they are sorely mistaken.” Maribelle huffed again, pulling back and inspecting her work. Stella’s cheeks were dusted with a soft peachy pink, her eyes quickly enhanced with some gold shimmer, the outer corners deepened with a brown powder, lids lined with an inky black, her full lashes curled and set with mascara,  lips were painted red like strawberries. “There, it’s perfect.”

 

“Your hair is done too,” Olivia squeaked, pulling away to reveal a delicate bun at her nape, some plaited hair twisting around to add dimension. “You look absolutely lovely, Stella.”

 

“Thanks to all three of you,” the tactician whispered, her cheeks coloring slightly. She seemed to be doing that a lot these days, blushing. _I suppose that’s civilian life for you, having to deal with the luxury of being embarrassed as opposed to wondering if you were going to live the next day._

 

“Dress time!” Lissa chirped standing up and rushing to the woman she was going to call sister in a few hours. Her heart stung slightly, still grieving for Emmeryn, but knowing that Stella wasn’t going to be a replacement, an addition instead.

 

They helped Stella into her dress, pure white and resplendent. It was a strapless gown, sweetheart neckline highlighted by delicate lace overlay, going all the way up to her neck and shoulders but leaving her arms bare, peppered with silver and light blue beadwork, strewn almost like stars. Her waist had been cinched in by the silver blue sash, the bow at the back hanging loosely but prettily. Her skirt flared out modestly, voluminous because of the tulle underskirt, but tempered slightly by the slight heaviness of the taffeta atop it. The hem pooled a little bit too much but fell just right once helped her into heels, leather torture devices Stella complained as she felt her toes pinch slightly despite the rounded toe box.

 

“It’s almost time.” Frederick entered the room quietly, the three chittering excitedly as they examined the bride. A shiver ran down Stella’s spine at the announcement. “You three should go back to your places now.” It was slightly stern, but kind. Lissa and Maribelle go first, kissing Stella on each cheek before leaving. Olivia draped the heirloom veil on the tactician, pinning it in place with the baubles the Shepherds had gifted her. Pleased after one last look over, Olivia squeezed her hands before leaving.

 

“Well, what do you think?” Stella does a half-twirl, her arms akimbo. “Do I pass muster?”

 

“I would never let you walk down the aisle to lord Chrom if I even thought the way you looked was going to embarrass him.” Frederick chuffed slightly but smiled, offering his arm. Stella laughed, amused at the way Frederick doled out compliments. “Shall we go, milady?” She frowned. Frederick coughed slightly as he corrected himself. “Shall we go, Stella?” She smiled, taking his arm and squeezing it affectionately.

 

The great hall fell silent when they arrived, everyone focusing on her with rapt attention. The train of her dress glided smoothly, ruffling against the carpet. Frederick whispered encouragingly as they bore the stares, some in awe, others laced with poorly hidden jealousy. Stella kept her chin up high, focusing her gaze straight, never straying from Chrom’s silhouette.

 

“Well done milady,” Frederick whispered when they reached him. He eased his arm from her grasp, leaning to kiss her cheek. Straightening, the knight turned to his liege and stepped aside. “Milord.”

 

“Thank you, Frederick,” they whispered, Stella taking Chrom’s hand as he guided her up the steps. For someone who hated heels, Stella’s steps were all surefooted. Taking their place before Libra, they turned to each other, suddenly absolutely giddy like two teenagers.

 

“You’re wearing two sleeves,” Stella teased her eyes falling on his usually bare arm now clothed.

 

“They made me. Formal event they said,” Chrom complained, itching to tear off the foreign article of clothing.

 

“It suits you. You should wear clothes like that more often.” Chrom gasped, putting on a mock horrified expression at her suggestion.

 

“Are you ready?” Libra interrupted, the ever present smile on his face reassuring. They nodded, eyes glittering once the monk started the ceremony. Everything in their field of vision blurred, save each other.

 

**—x—**

 

Everyone commented on how quaint the ceremony had been, unusual because of the pomp and circumstance that surrounded most royal weddings. The parade and reception that followed were more lively but still rather subdued, whispers of that the young couple was mindful of keeping their expenses modest.

 

“I still stand by my opinion that these things are leather torture devices,” Stella seethed, kicking off her heels with satisfaction, her knees buckling with fatigue as she sank to the floor. Her dress pooled around her, the ribbon around her waist coming slightly undone. She had long set aside the veil, one of the servants carefully boxing it, but left the jeweled hair pins in. “You should have worn one of these so I didn’t have to suffer alone.”

 

“Ah but the other ladies at court were wearing them too, my love.” Chrom laughed, sitting cross legged in front of her as he coaxed out her feet, his thumbs pressing softly but firmly against her soles. Stella sighed languidly, the tension melting away as Chrom continued to massage her aching feet. “Better?”

 

“Now this is a wedding night,” she murmured blissfully, leaning back as her palms supported her weight. Chrom hummed amusedly, thumbs brushing over a particularly tender spot to ease away the pain. “Though I suppose this is only the wedding night because it’s the night of our wedding. Now if we’re talking about the task at hand normally associated on a night like this, we had ours long ago.” Stella laughed as Chrom blushed, pulling her feet from him as she crept closer, kissing him before pressing their foreheads together. “Want another go? We can pretend I’m not pregnant.”

 

“You sure it’s safe?” Chrom eyed her stomach worriedly.

 

“I trust that my beast of a husband isn’t going to do anything to harm us.” Stella smiled, Chrom swearing there was a hint of wickedness, as she rest both her hands on her belly.

 

“Still,” he murmured, unconvincing as he angled his head to take her mouth.

 

“Don’t you want to unwrap your present?” Chrom bit his lower lip, the urge to fight their instincts slowly slipping away as Stella placed his hands at the edge of the blue silk. With her hands on his wrist, she tugged at the ribbon lightly. She smiled, watching his Adam’s apple move slowly up then down.

 

“Stella…” Chrom found his throat was getting dry. Stella knelt, her knees cushioned by the tulle and the taffeta.

 

“Now where’s my wild husband, the one who _fucked me so passionately_ ,” she whispered in his ear, her palms digging into his shoulders for support, her body pressed against him. Chrom’s eyes widened, lust starting to take over reason, cheeks reddening at her language. Stella felt him start to harden against her, a familiar heat starting between her legs. _He’s getting turned on and so am I._ “Tell me where you hid him because I want that man to _fuck me senseless until I can’t walk_.”

 

Chrom’s control snapped, his eyes dark, swooping down to carry Stella as soon as he stood up. Before lust took over, he gently set Stella down to stand, fingers deftly finding the zipper as he tugged it slowly. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, pulling her flush against him as he nibbled the top of her ear.

 

“I will,” she mumbled, hands pushing down against his nape to bring him closer.

 

**—x—**

 

“How long should we wait?” Stella’s legs twitched in pain, tangled with Chrom’s, her forehead pressed against his chest, their bodies slick with sweat. She asked for a pounding and she got it, wondering if they knew any other way to have sex. It was always rough, even the times he didn’t go at her so strongly that it made her legs absolutely useless.

 

“A month? I dunno.” Chrom set his forehead against the crown of her head, the scent of lemons, flowers, and them lingering.

 

“Mmkay.” Stella felt her lids close, her lashes brushing brushing against Chrom. “A month it is.” A thump of pain jolted her senses but she kept her eyes closed. “Chrom?”

 

“Yes love?”

 

“Can you carry me around tomorrow? I know I asked for it but I really don’t think I can walk… Between you and those insufferable heels, my legs and my feet are dead.” Chrom laughed, his baritone vibrating between them.

 

“Sure, whatever you want. Let me spoil you tomorrow until the end of our days, my love… my Queen.” Chrom prepared himself for her teasing laughter, the cheesy romantic line spilling unbidden out of love for her. The only response he got was her steady breath, his new wife asleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured Chrom and Stella getting married isn’t so easy as just him saying so. He’s king now and usually those of noble blood don’t get to just… marry. Anyway, Kilburn plotting a rebellion isn’t going to be a problem, mostly because this is still set in-game and is just AU in terms of the details of how the story has progressed. That and I’d like to imagine that the common Ylisseans are so devoted to those of the Exalted Blood and are peace-loving folk, given Emmeryn’s hardship on how they thought she was going to continue her father’s warmongering ways.
> 
> Used the final confession line in Chrom’s S-Support with the Avatar, because it’s appropriately cheesy but filled with such meaning, hah. Also used the description about the ring from Sumia’s support because I feel regardless of who he marries, he’s going to give her that ring anyway.
> 
> I decided to split this next bit of Chrom’s and Stella’s lives into two because apparently I like rambling and detailing everything when I write more dramatic things… I suppose an upgrade compared to previous (and very early) attempts at this years and years before. Perhaps I’ve matured a bit… Obviously the first part is the leading up to the marriage and then ended with the sort of announcement that an heir is on the way… the next will be what’s left of the two years before they hear word of the Valmese intend to conquer Ylisse (chapter 12 of the game).
> 
> Pretty long this one, since I didn’t think splitting it into two chapters (the negotiation with the council then detailing the pre-wedding stuff) was warranted. Not sure how long the next one will be but… probably long enough if the length of this chapter and [Dolor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11400441) are taken into consideration.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much drama can I organically add to this chapter… Not that it’s a challenge but just wondering out loud since I’ve been in such am ~*drama*~ mood lately. Well, maybe some drama but nothing too deep. I make no promises.

Stella stared at the letter irritatedly, fingers gripping and crumpling the paper, its contents the most offensive thing she had ever read, brows furrowed as she contemplated on summoning the writer for a thorough tongue-lashing. Her free hand rested against her swelling belly, still small but already obvious. Even the warmth emanating from the life within her wasn’t enough to assuage her. Why on earth would anyone send her a missive detailing all sorts of concoctions on how to assure their firstborn was to be a  _ son _ . It’s not that Stella didn’t want a son, but what was so wrong about the heir to the throne being a  _ girl _ ?

 

“What ails you, my love?” Stella’s face released the tension it held when she heard Chrom’s voice, the smell of freshly brewed tea wafting from his hands. It was a green tea, unusual and from a faraway land, but she appreciated the unique flavor it held, like toasted rice. She smiled gratefully as the cup passed into her hands, tall and cylindrical as opposed the short but wide with a ceramic ear ones she was accustomed to. “Ah.” Chrom sat down on the bed beside her, picking up the letter and frowning. 

 

Stella waved her hand over the letter dismissively, sipping her tea as she continued to sulk. Not for long though, tea always seemed to calm her down. Tea and cakes. She had a terrible sweet tooth, though not nearly as incorrigible as Gaius. For now though, tea was all she could take to quell her stomach. The first two months were unremarkable, the morning sickness suddenly cramming itself to the period just after their wedding up until the first or so week of her fourth month of pregnancy. It was over now, but until she had a week of no throwing up before the sun was out, she’d limit herself to things she was sure wouldn’t unsettle her.

 

“Thank you for this,” she murmured, her eyes half-lidded in contentment as she snuggled deeper against the propped up pillows. The lack of sleep from rushing to the bathroom to throw up had gotten to her, only now starting to recover from fatigue. “Is Frederick outside?” Chrom nodded, gently pressing an ear against her stomach, covering her hand with his. “I might be pregnant but I’m not fragile.” Stella laughed, eyes crinkling, touched by Frederick’s concern but no doubt as the weeks pass, her patience would wear thin at his constant vigil. “My love, please tell him there are much better things to do than wait at our door.” Stella turned to face the door. “Like calling for the doctor, I have something I’d like to discuss with him!”

 

“Yes, milady, at once!” Heavy armor clang loudly, almost like he was running.

 

“Don’t abuse poor Frederick now.” Chrom lifted his head, eyebrow raised with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He scooted closer, seated shoulder to shoulder against her and what seemed to be a kingdom of pillows behind their backs.

 

“Me? I would never!” Stella put a hand on her chest in mock indignation. “How dare you insinuate such things.”

 

“Can’t a benevolent lord be concerned for his dutiful steward? I did not mean to insult you, fair lady.” Chrom bit his inner cheek, trying not to laugh. “I pray you will be magnanimous and forgive this oversight. It is a stain upon me that I did not take great care in assuring I did not insult your honor.” With a flourish, Chrom plucked the hand on her chest, bringing it to his lips. “Would you forgive me?”

 

“Your apology is… somewhat passable.” Stella’s eyes glittered, the tactician amused at the characters they seemed to easily fall into. “But insufficient.”

 

“Then, pray tell, what else should I do to appease you?”

 

Stella set aside her nearly empty cup, sipping her tea all the while.

 

“A kiss.”

 

“A kiss?”

 

“A kiss.” Stella cupped his face with her hands, pulling him near until their lips were almost touching. “A kiss to soothe my wounded ego.” He inhaled the scent of toasted rice, the hairs on his neck rising at how close they were. She paused, almost as if struggling with what she wanted to say next. “A kiss to make me forget that awful letter.” 

 

Chrom obliged, angling his head as he kissed his wife tenderly, his hands reaching to cover the ones on his cheeks. “Forgiven now, my dear lady?” They pulled away enough to press their foreheads together instead, his fingers clasping around hers as he pulled their hands to settle in the space between them. He could feel her nod mutely, forehead moving against his, a somber air settling between them. “My love, I don’t give a damn what those meddlesome nobles say. Think nothing of it. I don’t care whether we’ll have a son or a daughter first. As long as you and the baby are happy and healthy, that’s enough.”

 

“Truly?” She whispered, lip trembling. It was unlike her to question Chrom’s dedication but pregnancy was making her much more susceptible to emotions, unable to temper her feelings with reason. She counted herself among those who used logic to decide much in her life, or what she remembered of it, but emotions provided a wealth of information that allowed her to move forward knowing her position on various matters. Life was not black and white and emotions helped her to make sense of much of the gray areas along with her reasoning.

 

“You are one of the strongest and most powerful women I know. I feel like I lean more on you than you do on me.” Chrom smiled, pulling apart as he cupped her cheek, thumb running over the skin just below her eye. “I’m glad I married a woman who can stand on her own, who can take on the world without me but chose to be with me anyway. It is not a terrible fate if Naga blessed us with only daughters.” Stella blushed at the implication of his words. He wanted more children with her. “I count that a blessing because they will have you for a mother, someone who can show them their self-worth isn’t defined by someone else.”

 

**—x—**

 

Stella gratefully sunk her teeth into a freshly baked spiced cake, glazed generously. After finally,  _ finally _ getting over her contracted period of intense morning sickness, she could eat just about anything. She seemed just go back to her old eating habits just as quickly as she had become nauseated every morning but today, today she was  _ ravenous _ . She had just been in bed about a couple of hours ago, the fatigue of carrying a baby forcing her eyes shut before she could wait for Chrom to finish his work. Stomach grumbling and baby kicking, Stella was up again, making her way to the kitchen, newly acquired tome splayed open beside her plate, a full loaf of the spiced bread in front of her, candles everywhere to light up the table.

 

She had been craving spiced foods of any kind, attracted to the heady warmth it brought. Her nose still crinkled whenever hot, chili-doused foods were brought out but there was something different about spices, something comforting and homey. It was a feeling that spread out from her gut to the very tips of her fingers, her nose, that gave her the expression of a satisfied housecat, gaze half-lidded as she rubbed her belly comfortingly. It seemed to raise a forcefield around her, buffeting the chills of autumn. The mages predicted a cold winter, not any harsher than usual, but colder somehow. It seemed her cravings were a way for her to stockpile warmth, if that was possible.

 

“Thank you for the cake. Did you bake it? I saw you pouring the glaze over top when I arrived.” The young girl squeaked and nodded, hiding her mouth behind the serving platter she had just used. Stella smiled warmly, beckoning the young girl to come forward. She was new and likely had never seen the tactician before. “Can you teach me how to make it? It seems the little one enjoys it as much as I do.” The girl’s eyes widened, a soft smile playing on her lips as she approached, cheeks dusted red.

 

“My s-sister. When my sister was pregnant, I used to make this for her often. I heard you have taken to spiced foods, milady, so I thought to make some for you. I used to bake a lot of things for her. Our mother is a baker, but my sister never got the hang of it.” She blushed, clutching the metal platter even tighter, embarrassed she even dared to presume. Stella smiled, setting her fork down as she pried fingers loose, pulling the young girl close as the tactician kissed both her cheeks. “Milady?” she squeaked, blushing furiously now.

 

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you ran off to when I found the room empty.” Chrom strode forward, straddling the bench in the space beside Stella, her shoulder pressed against his chest, softly pressing a kiss on her cheek before resting his chin at the curve. The servant squeaked a greeting, asking if he wanted anything but a casual wave of his hand indicated otherwise. “What’s that you’re eating, and reading, but mostly what are you eating?” Chrom lazily turned his head, pressing his cheek now on her arm as his gaze flitted from cake to book and back to cake.

 

“Spiced cake that this young girl, bless her heart, made because she’d heard I’d been wanting spiced foods lately.” Stella reached forward, Chrom’s head shifting slightly as he grumbled, grabbing the girl’s hand before she slipped away, urging her to stay. Once satisfied that she wouldn’t leave, Stella dropped her hand and picked up a fork, spearing a piece with just the right amount of glaze. “I asked her to teach me how to make it.” She shifted Chrom slightly as she turned to feed him. His once half-lidded eyes opened widely at the taste, savoring the simple but homey flavors. “See?”

 

“You must teach the queen how to make it!” Chrom agreed enthusiastically, reaching over to take another bite.

 

“Go, we’ll be fine by ourselves. If we can manage out in the field, the castle kitchens will be no match for us.” Stella shooed the young girl, content to be in the company of a spiced cake, a new tome, and her husband. The girl nodded, saying she’d be back to clean up later, bowing again and again with sheer pleasure at the thought that the Exalt and his wife enjoyed what she made.

 

“So you answered what you’re eating.” Chrom craned his neck forward, sinking his teeth into the cake that Stella was about to feed herself. “Now what are you reading?” He grinned cheekily, dodging her half-hearted swipe.

 

“Miriel found some interesting new tomes, so I thought I’d read through it and learn the incantation.”

 

“Stella…” Chrom’s voice was laced with concern, looking at her eyes then over the hand on her belly, a habit she’d unconsciously formed.

 

“I’m just reading. I won’t try it out while I’m pregnant, though I did ask Miriel to practice in my stead, so we can figure it out together. Even Henry and Tharja haven’t seen these before.”

 

Chrom frowned but leaned his chin back on his wife’s shoulder, arms snaking forward as he clutched her closer. As long as she wasn’t overdoing anything, reading a tome or two was fine. “Are you done yet?” Chrom stifled a yawn, the warmth from the cake and the softly crackling fire nearby making him sleepy, the all too familiar and soothing scent of lemons and flowers relaxing him further.

 

“Hm? No, still hungry I’m afraid. Hazards of eating for two people.” Stella reached over and cut another slice, a generous one as if to drive home the point. “Go to bed. You must be tired. Frederick says you have another long day tomorrow.”

 

“No, I’ll wait here with you. Bed’s a little too cold without you there.” Stella flushed, eyes back on her tome as she fed herself another bite. Chrom shifted, pulling back as he properly seated himself on the bench, half-sprawled on the table. “I’ll doze here. Wake me up when you want to go back?” He smiled, pulling her closer hand flush against his chest, Falchion-calloused fingers closing around relatively smoother skin.

 

“Go to bed, I’ll follow soon.” Stella laughed, turning her head to admonish him properly, only to find Chrom quickly asleep. Her heart warmed. Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his temple and resumed reading.

 

When the baker’s daughter came back more than an hour later, she found the plate, glass, and cutlery already washed, set to dry on top of some towels. There was probably only a third of the cake left, a testament to its deliciousness and just how hungry Stella was. The only sign that the Exalt and his wife were even there were the nearly burned out candles, freshly snuffed and smoke curling delicately from the wicks. She smiled as she set herself to tidy whatever was left, already thinking about what to make for the young queen next.

 

**—x—**

 

Winter had quickly arrived, the chill making Stella’s bones ache constantly. The last week of the last year was fairly peaceful, cold obviously, but nothing huddling in blankets and resting by a fire wasn’t going to fix. It was well into the first month of the new year and the weather was always just shy of a blizzard buffeting at the door. She was thankful that the harvest was good all over the country and the war finished, many Ylisseans likely huddled together with their families to wait for the infernal winter-storm-but-not-winter-storm to be over.  _ At least it was never like this in the battlefields when we were fighting. I must send a letter to Flavia and Basilio, ask them how they manage Feroxi winters. _

 

“Hiya Bubbles!” The thief practically skipped over, Stella’s eye twitching slightly with jealousy. She was more than six months along now, a little bigger than most but healthy just the same. She longed to move around freely, her once agile limbs weighed down by a baby. Now, she was slow to move, mostly waddling about, even slower as the swell continued to grow. “Brought something for ‘ya!” He grinned, cheeky as ever, eyes brimming with pure delight as he held two steaming mugs in his hand. “Think it’ll do you some good with the weather and all, and how gloomy you’ve been lately.”

 

Stella poked her head out from under her furs, nose red from the frigid air, brows scrunched up in annoyance that she had to be coaxed out from the comfort she had swathed over herself. “This better be good.” Despite her grumpiness, she gratefully accepted the steaming mug, fingers curled around the ceramic gratefully, lids closing with pleasure at the scent. Gaius, dear sweet Gaius brought hot chocolate spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, whipped cream floating on top. Taking a sip, Stella sighed in satisfaction, curling back into her furs. “Where did you get this?”

 

“I made it m’sself! Slaved over the kitchen too.” Gaius smacked his lips, taking another sip of his own drink.

 

“Really now?” Stella raised an eyebrow, amused at his declaration.

 

“…Fine, took me about thirty minutes. Would’ve been faster if I didn’t have to chop up the block myself.”

 

“And if you didn’t sneak in a bite every so often.” Gaius laughed, Stella hitting the bullseye with that comment. “No but really where did you get this?”

 

“Oh… here and there.” Gaius shifted his weight uneasily, whistling as he averted his gaze.

 

“You better not have raided this.” Stella’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Bubbles! What do you take me for?” Gaius looked at her in mock offense, brows raised and mouth agape.

 

“Reformed thief?”

 

“Little bit. This Shepherd business does something to ‘ya.” Gaius plopped down on the chair across, eyes focused on the dancing embers.

 

“Sure does.” Another sip. Stella shrugged a little bit of the fur off, the warmth of the chocolate slowly settling throughout her body.

 

“Naw but I bumped into a friend in town. He’d been travelling and found some chocolate. He gave me some!” Stella raised her brow again, disbelieving of his claims. Gaius coughed. “I talked my way into getting a bag for a pittance.”

 

“A pittance?”

 

“See, little bit reformed! Before I met you and Blue, I would’ve just swiped it from him without a second thought.”

 

“I don’t particularly take comfort in that fact.” Stella’s eyes narrowed again but took whatever reformation she could get out of the man. Gaius was an able ally and a good friend. Baby steps.

 

“Anyway, leaving you to it!” Gaius pushed himself off of his seat with a flourish. “See you Bubbles.” Gaius was nearly out the door when Stella called out.

 

“Gaius?” He turned on his heel. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.” He nodded, tipping an imaginary hat her way. “And the company.” Stella smiled into her cup when she heard an enthusiastic ‘Blue!’ and a pleasantly bemused Chrom walked in.

 

“What was that all about?” Chrom pressed a gentle kiss against her temple, furs now loosely wrapped around her shoulders instead of all over her.

 

“Gaius brought me hot chocolate. It’s deliciously warm and spicy.” Stella set down the empty mug on the low table, wiggling herself forward until she had enough leverage to push herself off. She couldn’t.

 

“Can’t find your balance?” Stella grumbled, reaching forward and looking at Chrom expectantly.

 

“Come, do your husbandly duties and help me get off this chair.” Chrom laughed, holding her hands tightly as he helped her up.

  
“I thought one’s husbandly duties meant finding a way to get his wife pregnant.” Chrom pulled her flush against him, or as close to anyway with a swollen belly between them. He grinned, pecking her cheek before letting her go.

 

“Which is precisely why I’m in this state.” Stella huffed, picking up her furs and slowly waddled towards the bathroom. “So while I am currently physically indisposed, your duties will have to include helping me get anywhere and drawing me a bath!”

 

“As my Queen desires.” Stella shot Chrom a dirty look, the sternness offset by her biting her lower lip in an attempt to suppress her laughter.

 

**—x—**

 

“Soon?”

 

“Soon. They say a week from now.”

 

Stella cradled ther belly, the tactician relegated to their quarters at this stage of her pregnancy. It was almost time for the baby to come and she couldn’t arrive any sooner. Her muscles ached from the burden, her center of gravity having been off kilter for so long a few steps could send her off balance. Still, she relished the warm of another body inside of her, the quiet of the evening when it was still just the two of them. It would soon be replaced by the demanding and boisterous cries of an infant who had already stolen their hearts.

 

“The flowers haven’t arrived yet. When did you say they usually did?” Stella glanced absently at the windows, the tops of the trees in the courtyard just visible from her vantage point. Chrom had told her what a sight they were, like multicolored and pastel snow falling around as the wind blew. She groaned appreciatively, Chrom’s fingers and knuckles interchangeably kneading a stubborn knotted expanse of muscle near the base of her spine. “There, right  _ there _ love.”

 

“The trees should be flowering by now. It usually starts early April, mid-month at the latest.” Chrom diligently worked another knot, Stella melting more and more against him as he continued. His hands moved, fingers gliding slowly up and down on either side of her spine, the stroke finishing just short of her shoulder blades, intensifying into a strangely pleasant pressure. “Good?” Stella mumbled appreciatively, eyes closed as she pressed her nape against the crook of his neck, his hands never once stopping when she nestled herself closer.

 

“Milord, milady?” Frederick’s voice, despite its lowered volume, seemed to boom still. Chrom looked over his shoulder, beckoning the knight to come forward. “I brought some snacks.” He had thoughtfully set it on a breakfast tray, knowing that Stella would protest at the thought of having to move from her place. On it were assorted light foods, mostly light sandwiches and small cakes, as well as a pot of freshly brewed tea. “Would you be needing anything else?”

 

“No, thanks Frederick.” Stella cracked one eye open, smiling at the knight before reluctantly peeling herself away from Chrom. She picked a small cake topped with strawberries, pleasure seeping through her bones as she chewed thoughtfully. “Did Eloise make these?” Since eating that spiced cake, Stella had grown close to the baker’s daughter, quietly instructing the castle’s own head baker, Catherine, to take the young girl under her wing. The motherly instincts in their baker was more than happy to, relieved for the talented help as well. The few other kitchen staff were far too impatient to learn the fine art of baking, relegated to mostly the manual aspects of it as opposed to learning the secrets to the perfectly crusted bread with pillow soft insides and perfectly made cakes.

 

“She sends her regards, milady, and the hope that the next time she sees you, the baby will have been born healthily.” Frederick smiled, eye crinkling. “I had asked Catherine to prepare a tray of snacks to go with your afternoon tea. She and Eloise quickly prepared this spread.” The knight let his hand roam over the tray, delectable bites all over, ones he had to sneak out of Gaius’ hawk-like eyes and quick, sticky fingers.

 

“They have excellent taste.” Chrom picked up a sandwich, biting into the fresh tomato peeking out from under the bread. “Perhaps we’ll grow fat and content with years of peace upon us.” Frederick looked horrified at the statement, ignoring the rest of the sentence once he heard the word ‘fat.’

 

“You? Fat? I should think not. I shall prepare a training regimen at once to compensate for the food here in Ylisstol!” Chrom cringed, mentally beating himself up for giving Frederick more motivation for training. Not that the young lord minded training and swordplay, but he certainly wasn’t as zealous as the knight.

 

“Relax Frederick, it was just an offhand comment.” Stella laughed as Frederick mumbled his apologies, the steward still muttering under his breath about Chrom needing to start training once more. “But again, thank you for your thoughtfulness and sending us food, especially considering my current incapacity.”

 

“It is no problem at all. Now if you'll excuse me, I must draw up milord Chrom’s schedule to accommodate more frequent trainings. It will be the death of me should milord ever grow fat and lazy under my watch!” With a quick bow and a slight huff, Frederick left them, Chrom’s mouth hanging as he watched his old friend just barely run off to his own office. He swore Frederick  _ actually ran _ the minute he was out the door, loud armor clanging possible evidence to the fact.

 

“What did I just do?” Chrom nearly wailed, never quite having gotten over Frederick’s training regimen. He was in shape and talented in using most swords, partly due to innate talent, the rest honed by the discipline gained from Frederick’s eagle eyes. An offhand comment about growing fat and content didn’t actually mean he was going to neglect his swordwork, even if there were other more pressing matters to attend to.

 

“It’s just Frederick being Frederick. He’s probably just restless.” Stella’s eyes twinkled in amusement, hand reaching out to pick up another snack. “When was the last time you practiced anyway?”

 

“Just before you were relegated to almost complete bedrest. If I’m not needed at council or working in the study, I’d rather just stay here beside you.” Chrom pressed a kiss to her nape, a pleasant shiver running down her spine.

 

“Almost a month then. Go and work up a sweat. I’m sure it’s killing you to be cooped up all day anyway.” Chrom was about to protest but the words died in his throat when Stella sneakily pecked his lips. “Go on, I’ll be fine. I have food from Catherine and Eloise, a pot of tea, and a good book. If it makes you feel any better, you can call Lissa to come keep me company.”

 

“You sure?” Chrom raised a brow in concern.

 

“Absolutely. Now go! Your muscles must be aching for a workout.” Stella smiled, gently pushing him off the bed.

 

“I’ll practice in the courtyard. If you need anything, just have Lissa go over to the window and yell.” Chrom leaned down, pressing kiss upon kiss on Stella’s lips as his own curved into a smile.

 

“Yes yes now go you brute!” Stella laughed, dodging another kiss from him. Her palms against his chest, she finally pushed him away, Chrom tumbling slightly backwards, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

 

**—x—**

 

Her body ached more than ever, muscles contracting slowly then quickly, sharp, jutting pains seizing her. She could vaguely hear the midwife and doctor barking orders for pillows, sheets, and hot water. Libra was in attendance, having helped deliver babies in small villages as he journeyed on. Stella was screaming, each contraction somehow more painful than the last, her hair drenched with sweat as she clung on to whatever consciousness she had left. She dug her heels into the bed, lower back lifting slightly as she fisted the sheets. This was going to be the longest night of her life. “CHROM!” she yelled, desperate to see her husband. “CHROM!” Tears started falling, her shoulders heaving with sobs as she tried to endure the pain.

 

“What’s happening to her?” Chrom spun wildly, teeth gnashing as he ran past, rushing to his wife. His heart was wrenched with pain, unable to do anything except hold her. Stella clung to him, pulling the young king into bed as she buried her face in his lap. She was exhausted, the contractions gripping her body like a vice with no end in sight. She still could not push. “I’m here, my love, I’m right here,” Chrom whispered, rubbing her back soothingly as she continued to cry.

 

_ This, this is what you get for daring to bring life into the world. _ Stella screamed again, that gods-awful voice back to torment her.  _ Desiring Chrom for yourself was one thing. It would have been a joy to rip everything from him, but I suppose birthing his heir only adds to the suffering of having lost more. _ Her head was pounding, the pain searing into her skull as she held on, fisting her husband’s shirt.  _ There will only be more suffering for you, pain until you get that wretched thing out of your body. _

 

“Chrom I can’t do this,” Stella cried weakly, her body suddenly drained. “Make it stop,” she whispered, her head lolling in his lap.

 

“Is there nothing anyone can do?” Chrom shouted, everyone in attendance flinching visibly as he pulled Stella up, holding her by her arms. His expression softened as he looked into her eyes. “You can and you will, my love. This will pass.” Chrom kissed her softly on the forehead, pulling her into an embrace as she raked her nails across his back, another spasm jerking her forward.

 

“Chrom, let me pray for Naga’s blessing upon her. Maybe we can call for Lissa to use one of the healing staves, rejuvenate what we can of Stella’s energies?” Libra offered, approaching slowly. The blue haired lord nodded, never once removing his focus on his wife.

 

At her summons, Lissa ran as fast as she could, carrying all the staves she thought necessary. Breathless, she approached the bed, falling to her knees and dropping her load as her heart twisted in pain at the sight of Stella. Weakly, she waved a staff over Stella, directing its healing energies towards her sister-in-law, hoping Libra’s suggestion would work, the monk off to one side as he prayed for Naga’s blessing.

 

“Thank… you…” Stella managed to utter, her eyes half-lidded in pain as she slumped against Chrom. Reaching out, she made an effort to grasp Lissa’s hand, the young girl inching closer to meet her. “Thank… you… Lissa…” Stella smiled slightly, wincing as another spasm came. The staves seemed to have helped somewhat, the pains more a dull ache than a sharp jolt, but Stella was too exhausted to notice by now.

 

“You’re almost there, milady. Just a few more minutes and then you can push,” the midwife said soothingly, pressing a cool, damp towel to her forehead. “Milord, let us adjust your wife. It is nearly time.” Chrom nodded mutely, moving to step away but stopping when Stella clutched his hand. Lissa stepped away, setting aside burned out staves and clutching her brother’s waist, hugging him comfortingly before slacking her grip to hold the same hand Chrom was.

 

_ Why don’t I just take the child’s life now hm? Make you go through all that only for naught. _ Stella’s eyes flew wide open, grip tightening around Chrom’s hand as she clenched her teeth. Whatever that voice in her head was, it wasn’t going to take away her baby, Chrom’s child, the fruit of  _ their love _ . Everything started to muffle, Stella vaguely registering the doctor telling her to push. She felt Chrom squeeze her hand, head still but eyes moving to his lips. Taking in a deep breath, she mustered as much energy left in her depleted body and started to push, defiant of the voice in her head, chanting and taunting that the child would be dead before it felt the love of a mother.

 

Sunlight was starting to peek through the windows, Stella having been in labor since mid-afternoon. She didn’t think she could take much more, one hand clutching Chrom’s and Lissa’s, the other fisting on their sheets. She wasn’t particularly religious but was thankful for Libra’s guidance and help, suddenly feeling the urge to pray. She implored to Naga to let this be over soon, to let her hold her child and shower love upon the babe, to defy the chilling words of death she could still somehow hear from somewhere inside of her but couldn’t understand.

 

“Once more milady. The head is crowning. Your child will be here soon.” Stella lifted her head slightly, exhaustion and relief painting her face when she heard the pronouncement. With one big heaving shout, she gave the last push required of her, body sinking bonelessly when she gave everything she had. Silence filled the room, Stella half-conscious as her body screamed for her baby, despite the ache. When sunlight was finally filtering freely, the sky pale pink and orange at the horizon, the baby started to cry, softly at first then louder and louder. “Congratulations milord, milady. Your daughter has strong lungs.”

 

Chrom sank to his knees, embracing Stella but mindful of her spent body, tears falling freely at the news. Everyone else in the room was stunned, happy tears pooling at the corner of their eyes, the midwife and the doctor continuing to clean both Stella and the baby quietly. Ylisse would erupt with joy when the news spread, news that another joined the ranks of the Exalted Blood. Once clean, the midwife handed the baby to Libra as was customary for one of Naga’s priests to bless a newborn.

 

“Naga bless you, little one,” Libra whispered, pushing away tufts of blue hair. The baby squirmed, unsettled still in the monks arms but at least quiet. Smiling, he shifted her slightly, carrying the infant with one arm as he lightly passed a hand on Stella’s shoulder before it settled on Chrom’s. “Naga bless this small but beautiful family. May they grow in your care and walk forward with your guidance.” Chrom mouthed his gratitude, taking his daughter from Libra as he knelt back down, the new parents lost in their own world. 

 

“Let’s leave them alone shall we?” Lissa said, clapping her hands softly before settling them on her hips. All the attendants filed out of the Exalt’s private quarters, happy murmurs left in their wake. The doctor said he’d check back in a few hours to see how Stella was faring, the labor particularly difficult and painful but still somehow par for the course. “We’ll see you all later,” Lissa whispered, last to leave the room, happy but tired smile plastered on her face as she gently closed the door.

 

“She’s beautiful.” Chrom pressed a gentle kiss to their daughter’s forehead, her face scrunching at the strange sensation but righting itself back into a smile as Chrom pulled away. “Thank you.”

 

“For what?” Stella croaked, voice almost gone. Her heart warmed at the sight of her husband slouching over their daughter.

 

“For being strong, for seeing it through.”

 

“But I almost gave up.”

 

“But you  _ didn’t _ .” Chrom straightened slightly, putting the baby in Stella’s arms, the tactician automatically pulling at her robes and set a breast free. The baby quickly latched on, clutching Stella’s robes with her small, chubby hands. 

 

_ You might have won this battle but you will not win the war. _ Stella ignored the voice, senses hazy with contentment as she watched their daughter. “Lucina.”

 

“Hm?” Chrom sat beside them, arm curled protectively around Stella’s shoulders.

 

“Lucina. She that brings to the light. It’s daybreak.” Stella turned her gaze to the windows, smiling appreciatively at the blue sky.

 

“Ah, so it is.” Chrom picked up Stella’s free hand, fingers twining. “Perhaps you and the young Princess should sleep once she’s done feeding. I’ll be right here if you need anything. Work can be put off for today.”

 

“Thank you, my love,” Stella whispered tiredly, leaning against his shoulder as her lids closed halfway. A cool breeze passed, a few petals from the flowering trees in the courtyard making their way to the windowsill. Even spring seemed to wait for Lucina before the trees bloomed in full force, pastel flowers taking over the bright green leaves.

 

**—x—**

 

“Are you sure?” Chrom narrowed his eyes as he held Lon’qu’s gaze.

 

“We’ve heard some things. Nothing is confirmed but if they have their sights set on Ferox, Ylisse must be in their plans.” The myrmidon’s voice was low and careful. Even within the confines of Chrom’s study, such sensitive matters required much delicacy. Though the air of seriousness was cut with a high pitched squeal even with the heavy wooden door shut. “…How’s fatherhood treating you?”

 

“Tiring, fulfilling.” Chrom waved a hand lazily in the air, wondering what Lucina and Stella were doing in the other room. His heart grew heavy at the thought of having to leave again, so soon after achieving peace, so soon after Lucina was born. She was a little over one now. “I didn’t expect to be at war again.”

 

“No one did. I’ll keep in touch if I hear anything. Basilio and Flavia send their regrets on having to call upon our alliance once more.” Lon’qu pressed his lips thinly, eyes narrowing as his eyes glinted like steel.

 

“No matter. If you must call on us to help keep innocent lives safe, then call on us freely.” Chrom rose and offered a hand to the swordsman. “Will you stay the night? The winds have been strong lately.”

 

Lon’qu opened his mouth to refuse but then paused to consider the weather. “Thank you for your consideration. I’ll leave tomorrow at first light.” He was not sent to Ylisstol to gather information, but to warn instead. A night’s delay was prudent and he would spend the rest of the afternoon training instead. With a slight bow, the myrmidon left, Chrom leaving his own study moments later.

 

“Dada!” Lucina wobbled as she attempted to run, clutching Chrom’s leg. The Exalt smiled, swooping his little girl, peppering her cheeks with kisses as she giggled. “Dada!” She reached forward, patting his cheeks softly before pressing herself against his chest, content in his warmth.

 

“What happened?” Stella wrapped her arms around his waist, Chrom’s free hand pulling her in closer as he relished the warmth of his two girls. Their eyes met, concern written in hers, pain glazing his.

 

“Later, my love,” he whispered, dipping slightly as he let his forehead rest against the crown of her head. His blood began to bubble, anger rising at the thought of someone so ruthless as to prefer war to a time of peace. He almost fell his arm burn, the Brand heating as he thought of being away from the small girl bundled up in his arms.

 

“Dada?” Lucina looked up, her own Brand flashing in her left eye. She seemed to feel his pain.

 

“It’s nothing my Princess,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. Lucina hummed happily, lifting her arms as she wrapped them around his neck.

 

“It’s time for Lucina’s nap. Help me settle her in?” Stella pulled away but grasped the hand that held her waist. Chrom nodded, letting Stella guide him to their bed. “Tell me later, my love.”

 

“You’ll hate it,” he murmured, detaching Lucina as he gently placed her in the middle.

 

“I’m sure. Lon’qu doesn’t usually come here for pleasantries. But we’ll manage, together.” She squeezed his hand and leaned against his arm, watching their slumbering daughter. It seemed their respite was over.

 

“Together.” He pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the lemon-and-flowers scent that brought him so much comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a grad student studying Psychology, I feel it is very important to note what emotions you’re feeling and not to disregard them! If you feel a certain way and it doesn’t make sense to you, think about why that is. Also, another thing I feel strongly about is where you attach your self-worth and self-esteem. It’s difficult if your sense of self is attached only to external things, because when these external things are gone, where are you anchored? If you attach it to something internal as well, such as what you believe yourself to be, then it makes for a better foundation. It’s difficult to explain in one paragraph but if this remotely interests you, do Google it! There are lots of articles online that can help, or at least begin, to clarify these things. /end-PSA-written-because-of-the-first-section
> 
> Also, my references for the birth are exaggerated TV depictions of it. Although I suppose if you juxtapose those with medieval medicine, not really an exaggeration. Labor can be painfully long for some, short and easy for others, but with lack of any real anaesthetic? Different story. Also, Grima makes an appearance again, this time punishing Stella for carrying life within her, which adds to the pain.
> 
> The last section is set before the cutscene of chapter 12, which is why it isn’t Raimi they’re talking to. I’m also not sure what part of the game I’m going to write next, probably after c23 when the Avatar finds out that they are the vessel of Grima.


End file.
